Lame-Not-Even-Really-A-Post-Post

I really have no excuse for not having my usual mind-blowingly awesome post for you all tonight. Our good friends Tony and Gia came over, so i'll totally blame it all on them.

I am 33 years old and still don't know what I want to do with my life when I grow up.

I often wish I were one of those people who knew when they were 15 that they wanted to be a doctor. I mean, after that, your life is pretty simple-get good grades, go to pre-med, get your doctorate, get rich, die. Not to say that I think med school is easy by any means, but at least having some pre-set life path must be a huge comfort when compared to the nebulous and rarely lucrative career path of most artists in the U.S. today.

Have you ever met someone who is a professional artist? Long hours, demanding clients who think their problems are a life-and-death issue, constant re-education, and high stress until a project is complete-these are the trademarks of the artist's life. Sounds a little bit like a doctor's , huh?

Now, clearly, if someone doesn't get that commissioned painting by the time they throw their big Holiday party, no one will die. Yeah, try telling that to your average art patron.

Please don't get me wrong-most doctors are incredible people who save lives every day, and we should all be grateful that anyone out there want to undertake such a noble and difficult life-path.

But shouldn't a rich and well-rounded society value artists just as much as doctors? Artists- whether architects, contractors, house painters, fine artists, etc.-affect the way we perceive our lives and often change it in a positive way.

When Harper was born, we were in the brand new women's center for, and it couldn't have been a better place to recover-beautiful wood furniture, nice soothing colors, great amenities, well laid-out rooms. Contrast that to our emergency room visit-in the same hospital-a few days later-old, outdated, and worn furniture; dingy grey and mauve walls and floors; small rooms with few amenities. I couldn't help but feel sick and gross in the older room, even though there was nothing wrong with me. This is but one small example of how artists enrich our lives every day, often to sub-standard pay and benefits.

Hopefully the American Renaissance will come soon.

I can't believe I'm actually up past midnight.

I am so old.